A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

“For an ordinary person, staying in the cemetery for a few hours would make them a dead person,” Mira exhaled.

"And that's how I became one of the dead..."

Mila looks only twenty years old now.

This is because Mira was lost in the Tomb of Wanderers when she was twenty years old.

By a twist of fate, he unwittingly became a gravedigger.

Unbeknownst to many, Mira has been here for over 30 years.

"But you don't need to worry about me."

Bray paused, puzzled.

"why?"

You really like asking why.

"... "

"Have you noticed anything different about yourself?" Mira suddenly asked.

Bray frowned and began to think.

"Does it count if the result of a self-assessment using the identification technique is wrong?" Bray asked, frustrated.

"show me."

Normally, one shouldn't show the results of a self-assessment to outsiders, but Bray showed them to Mira without the slightest hesitation.

“Just as Barossa said…” Mira fell silent, looking at me strangely.

"It seems I can't tell you too much. Now is not the time for you to know those things."

"..." This silly result actually has a big problem!?

Bray was startled and it took him a while to calm down.

"As compensation, I will answer any questions you may have."

“Tell me, I want to know, what is Black Iron? What is Bronze?” Bray said in a deep voice.

"And everything and everything about these things."

Mira turned around and lifted her slender foot.

"Follow me, and I'll tell you all the way."

Bray followed Mira and continued deeper into the ancient cemetery.

Mira recounted all the secrets of the race, from the era of the Gold Race to the present era of the Iron Race.

I don't know exactly how long we walked.

The surrounding scenery changed from dark to bright.

The dark green forest faded, revealing a verdant forest before Bray.

The light in the lantern suddenly went out.

Countless pale blue orbs of light floated around Mira.

There was a clearing in the woods, completely empty.

There was no grass, no flowers, just bare ground.

No, it's not that there's nothing at all—

Countless tiny particles swirled and danced in the open space.

"Where is this place?"

"This is still the Tomb of Wanderers."

Mira led Bray across the clearing to a tree.

A woman was leaning against the tree.

Bray stared at the woman in astonishment.

Because this woman looks exactly like Mira.

"This is my body."

"My body when I died." Mira said, as if recounting something mundane.

The perfectly preserved corpse, which looked just like a living person, sent a chill down Bray's spine, who had remained completely calm.

I don't know why, I just felt terrified.

“You’ve finally shown fear.” Mira’s voice sounded quite pleased.

"But don't worry, I didn't bring you here to scare you."

Mira crouched down and picked up the sword sheath from the side of her corpse.

The sword is still in its scabbard.

"Here, this is for you." Mira placed the entire scabbard in my arms.

"Is it a divine artifact?" A look of anticipation shone in the eyes of the dead fish, Bree.

This plot! Isn't this supposed to be a hero's story?!

"No."

"... "

"Just a broken sword."

Without a word, Bray drew his sword from its sheath.

"The blades are all chipped."

"Yes, they're all chipped."

After sheathing the sword, Bray calmly used an appraisal spell on it.

---

"A final echo"

Type: Longsword

Dimensions: 80 cm long, 5.5 cm wide

Overall: A sword crafted by a master, now a worn-out, chipped blade, but the material is still of excellent quality.

---

All that can be identified about this sword is its name and some basic information, which means that this sword is not a famous one.

"Judging from your expression, you seem quite disappointed." Mira noticed the disappointment on Bray's face.

“After all, you think you’d find something really good in a place like this,” Bray said with a shrug.

“We can’t identify anything,” Bray sighed.

The identification spell is not a panacea. If there is little relevant information in the knowledge base, the caster will not get any useful feedback unless they are highly skilled.

“The appraisal technique has great limitations. You will encounter many things in the future that you will not be able to see clearly,” Mira said, shaking her head.

“My future…” Bray pondered for a moment.

"Aren't you going to swing this sword?" Mira suddenly said.

"No, I'm afraid this broken sword will rot." Bray pursed his lips.

"This sword is of very good quality; after all, it's the sword that Barossa used to use."

"You wouldn't guess it's been used for a long time..."

Apart from the slight chipping on the blade, the "Final Echo" is in excellent condition, without any rust spots.

"Yes, Basaka cherishes this sword very much."

"And the blade is dull..." Bray couldn't help but complain after hearing Mira's words.

"Because when that fool was young, he overestimated his abilities and used this sword to cut some incredible things."

"Did you successfully cut it?"

“No.” Mira shook her head regretfully.

Bray weighed the sword in his hand with a sense of frustration.

This sword is really unreliable for cutting things.

"Consider this sword your reward for running errands for Barossa."

"A broken sword... can't you exchange it for something better?"

“That’s all.” Mira said with a straight face.

"..." Bray lowered his head and helplessly slung his sword behind his back.

"A sword like this wouldn't fetch much money." The blade doesn't even have any nice patterns, and the hilt is just a practical one.

"They don't even have the chance to be sold as handicrafts!"

"What's your name?" Mira suddenly asked.

“Blakeras, a country bumpkin,” Bray made a small joke.

"Thank you, country bumpkin."

"Hey! My name is Bray!"

“Alright, country bumpkin, it’s time for you to leave the Tomb of Wanderings.” Mira’s tone became serious.

"Okay, I won't complain anymore." Bray was speechless and unable to refute Mira.

"I also feel like I should leave. I always feel like a living person stuck in a cemetery or something..."

"Even if you're a bit special, you can't stay here for too long."

Am I special...?

"Hmm." Mira nodded, which was an affirmation.

"Then which way should I go?" This forest is really hard to find a way out of.

"You can go in any direction from here. Just keep walking and you'll be able to leave the Tomb of Wanderings."

“You will come out from where you came in,” Mira’s voice trailed off.

Mira backed away, her voice soon fading into the shadows of the trees.

"Wait! I have one last question!!!" Bray suddenly shouted.

"How insignificant are we, the Dark Iron race...we humans...?"

“Whether humanity is insignificant or not, see for yourself with your right eye,” Mira’s voice echoed in Bray’s ears.

"On this long journey, just remember not to lose yourself."

"Did Barossa leave with a smile in the end?" Mira's sorrowful voice rang out after a moment of silence.

"Yes, you're smiling very happily."

"Thank you for telling me this."

"I'm also very grateful to you for telling me those things."

As Bray's voice faded, the surrounding light abruptly disappeared.

The next moment, Bray was standing in the dark woods.

It was quiet, without any noise.

Bray used to think that heroes were amazing, demon kings were terrifying, and the world was actually very simple.

But only now has the full picture of the world truly begun to unfold before Bray.

"Next, as an ordinary person, I still need to continue making money."

Bray touched his blindfold.